


Used to the Hand

by Sultanspride (Llama)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Intimacy, M/M, Pony Play, Power Dynamics, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Sultanspride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing like wearing just a few strips of leather and a buttplug in public to put things in perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used to the Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [Pony Treat 'verse](http://sultanspride.livejournal.com/2504.html). This fic takes place earlier in their relationship than Pony Treat, and their activity has been confined to ponyplay that takes place outside of their normal environment. But all you really need to know is that Jared is Jensen's ponyboy.

  
_"See to it that the colt be kind, used to the hand, and fond of man."  
\-- Xenophon_

"So let me get this right – you're going to watch me take a piss?"

Jensen just smiles.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"You're going to be a pony all day, Jared. How long do you think you'll hold out?"

"We can come out of—"

" _All day_ ," Jensen says firmly. "If you need to pee, you're going to just have to do it. That's what ponies do."

Jared can't argue with that, and unzips his jeans. It's weird taking his cock out in front of Jensen in their own bathroom, but weird is how his life is since Jensen moved in. "That's gonna get real messy."

Jensen shrugs. "Could be. We can work on that. Not using your hands, things like that."

Jared hadn't even thought of that. "Oh, Jesus."

"But chances are there will be people around. People and other ponies. And you're going to have a hard time of it if you're feeling pee shy."

"I can't help it, all right?" Jared pulls off his t-shirt because he's starting to sweat already. He's used to being mostly naked around Jensen now, at least as a pony, but peeing? He needs to pee, he really does, but his dick is remaining uncooperative in his grasp and he can feel a flush working its way slowly over his cheeks. "This just isn't working."

Jensen just shrugs again. "Zip it up then. We can try again later."

Yeah, but Jensen will still be there, patiently waiting for him to take a piss, and Jared has probably never trusted anyone more in his life than he does Jensen, but he's still not sure how desperate he'll need to be before he does this.

An hour later he is squirming on the couch. There's a heavy pressure in his abdomen, a pleasant ache that's slowly turning into need. Desperate need.

"Ready to try again?" Jensen asks, an eyebrow raised.

"Uh. Soon," Jared says, trying to keep still. "Maybe."

Jensen eyes him dubiously. "Jared," he says. "You're not going to last much longer."

"I'm good," Jared says, eyes fixed on the TV screen. "Hey, when did _Lost_ start getting okay again? I swear, last time I saw--"

He stops as Jensen gets up from the couch and holds out his hand. Jared sighs, but instead of leading Jared to the bathroom, he's surprised when Jensen takes him towards the yard.

He's even more surprised when Jensen locks the door behind them.

"Hands behind your back, Jared," Jensen says, and it's an order Jared can't help but obey. His hands fly to the back of his belt in lieu of his pony tack, and stay there, palms outward, in position. Jensen's head inclines towards his, and Jared can't help leaning in towards him, although he's not sure if he's Jared or Sultan right now. Maybe Jared _becoming_ Sultan.

"You can speak," Jensen tells him, his voice a low rasp in Jared's ear. So, he's Jared. Maybe. The hand Jensen places on his shoulder feels good either way, warm against his bare skin, and Jared really wishes Jensen had warned him so he could put his t-shirt back on. "You just can't use your hands."

"But—"

"You need to tell me when you want to pee," Jensen says, and his gaze is focused in tightly on Jared's face. "I need to learn how you look, how you stand, how desperate you feel to go, then I know how to handle it when we're in public, okay?"

And yes, that makes sense to Jared. He may not be fully in character, but he already feels more secure like this, not so out of his comfort zone as he did in the bathroom with Jensen just sitting there watching. Here, with fresh air on his face, with Jensen's hand on him, with the trainer voice on, he's Jared's master, Jared's trainer. Sultan's beloved groom and caretaker.

"Okay," Jared manages, because Jensen is waiting expectantly for him to answer. "I can do that."

And he's still wearing his jeans instead of a bridle and harness, and they aren't in the familiar stable, the enclosed paddock, just here in their own back yard, but Jared's half in the headspace nonetheless. He has to trust that Jensen isn't messing with him, isn't doing this to humiliate him, but it's hard; the first time doing anything they've done together has been hard, because he doesn't know what to expect from any of it.

He focuses on the sound of Jensen's voice, the occasional touch of his hand. Those have never let him down yet. Jensen's presence is calm, steady like always, no hint of mockery or teasing in his eyes. There's something, but Jared isn't sure he can put a name to it..

By the time the pressure on his bladder is impossible to bear, Jared has no difficulty gasping out, "Now, Jensen, need to go now." He can't keep his right leg from trembling, foot practically stamping against the sparse grass, and he knows whatever other tells he has will have been noted by Jensen.

He doesn't flinch when Jensen goes for his belt buckle, although the brush of knuckles against his bare stomach makes him flutter somewhere inside. It's hard to tell where, because the ache in his bladder is consuming his senses. Jared is floating somewhere, almost detached, watching Jensen unzip Jared's fly, watching him push his jeans aside, reach into his boxers, and that's Jensen's hand on his cock now, lifting it clear of his clothes.

Jensen has seen Jared naked before. He's groomed him, taken care of him, touched him almost everywhere. _Almost._ This is the first time Jensen has ever touched Jared's cock, and Jared doesn't even know why that seems to be significant, but he's sure it is. He's not in any position to be embarrassed about his cock's half-hard state – it's no news to anyone here that Jared gets off on submitting to Jensen, even if they don't do anything about it together. Not that Jared would mind if—

"Jared."

A sharp tap from Jensen reinforces the command in Jensen's voice and brings Jared back to the moment. And oh Christ, Jensen is still holding his cock. Jensen has his hand on Jared's cock, and is looking him in the eye as if there's nothing wrong with that at all.

Maybe there isn't anything wrong with it. Jared doesn't think twice now when Jensen puts his hands on Sultan, rubs him down, flicks him with his fingertips or the crop. It doesn't bother him when Jensen checks his hooves, runs his hands up his legs one at a time, when Jensen makes him open his mouth for him, puts his fingers inside.

Jensen's fingers rub behind Jared's ear, the sensitive spot he likes to have rubbed when Sultan's bridle is removed, and that's all Jared needs to remember that this is okay, this is safe. This is _Jensen_ , who hasn't steered him wrong so far, and won't care even if he messes this up. He can do this. He can do it for Jensen, because Jensen thinks he needs to.

The gasp he draws in as he lets go is completely involuntary, like the twitch that jerks Jared's cock up out of Jensen's loose grip, sending a spray of piss everywhere.

"Shit!" Jared grates out, because he can feel the dampness soaking into his jeans, warm wet turning the denim clingy against his thigh, and there's a spray across Jensen's leg as well, he can see it.

"It doesn't matter," Jensen says, and the hand is back, fingers rubbing behind Jared's ear, a soothing, circling pressure. "Just let it out, Jared. Let it all out."

It takes Jensen's hand back on his cock before he can, a steadying grip pointing away from Jared's clothes, from Jensen's legs, before he can do it. He takes a deep breath, looks Jensen right in the eye, although his vision is blurry and he realizes his eyes are wet, and releases his bladder in a rush. Jensen's shoes are going to be ruined, because even pointed away by Jensen's sure hand, the stream of piss splashes up off the hard ground, and it never seems to end.

Jared is drained when he finishes, when the last stray drops drip forlornly to the ground, and he doesn't think he could summon up the energy to be embarrassed by the situation if he tried. So he's standing in their yard, one of Jensen's hands in his hair and the other on Jared's dick, and Jared just pissed on both of them, as well as creating the large puddle that is spreading out across the hardened ground. And Jensen _watched_ him do it.

Jesus Christ almighty.

He's still dazedly wondering how the hell he ended up like this when he feels Jensen shoving at his jeans.

"Take 'em off, Jared," Jensen says, and Jared gets it then. The denim grates and sticks as he slips out of them, and they're wetter than he thought. "Just leave them here."

His boxers aren't so bad, but Jensen seems to want them out of the way too, and Jared is in no fit state to argue. He should be arguing about being naked in his yard in the middle of the afternoon, but the cool air feels good on warm, damp skin, almost as good as Jensen's hands. They're firm and encouraging, reassuringly familiar in the midst of weirdness. The touches Jensen uses are gentle, similar to when he's calming Sultan down after exertion, bringing him in for a rubdown, or offering him a treat.

Jared wouldn't mind a treat either.

Jensen naked would be a good treat, but Jensen is still clothed when he follows Jared into the shower.

 _I can wash myself_ , Jared wants to say, but the water is so soothing on his shoulders that he just arches into the stream instead. Jensen is lathering up a sponge already, and way he rests his hand against Jared's neck is something Jared can't help but respond to. Jensen rubs the sponge gently in a soft circling motion, and it's so soothing Jared's eyes drift shut in moments, his hand laid flat in a token protest against Jensen's still-clothed chest.

It's better than in the stables, even though the sponge is rougher than the soft bristles of the brushes Jensen uses to groom him. Jensen's hands are just as sure though, his movements flowing and his methods thorough, his signals so easy to read that Jared lifts his arms without a word needing to be spoken, without needing to glance at Jensen's face. Jared showered this morning, and he didn't pee on his back or chest, but he's not going to complain. Far from it; he can feel Jensen's hard belly and soft, damp t-shirt against the head of his dick every time one of them moves, though there's no urgency in the way he lets it keep happening, just the slow pleasure building through his nerves.

Jensen taps lightly on the back of Jared's left shin, and he lifts his leg automatically, allowing Jensen to rub the sponge over his feet, press between his toes, rest the sole against Jensen's thigh while he runs it up and down Jared's leg. Another tap, and Jared swaps to the other leg, and it no longer seems strange that Jensen is at his feet in the shower, or that he's now running the sponge up and down the crack of Jared's ass, or over and under his cock. It seems like Jared's due, this half-grooming, half-worship, as much as it does when he is transformed into his powerful, beautiful alter ego.

Jensen's thighs brush against Jared's when he stands again, and strong fingers lather up his hair. Jared hasn't had his hair washed for him in years; even on set the girls tend to just damp it down if they need it wet. It feels good, like someone is taking care of him, but of course Jensen does that. Jared opens his eyes to smile at Jensen, but the water is in his face and his gaze drops to where Jensen's erection is pushing at the front of his soaking wet jeans. The denim is dark and heavy with water, and Jensen's t-shirt is clinging to his skin. It looks uncomfortable. Jensen just smiles when Jared's fingers slide under the hem of his t-shirt, grip his waist. Jared's dick rubs up against wet denim, and Jared can see Jensen swallow when he feels it.

He's seen Jensen get hard around the stables, of course. There are half-naked men and women all over the place, and although Jared would love to think it's touching him, seeing him that gets Jensen all excited, he doesn't really have any proof. Jensen has never said anything. He's never hinted at wanting more from their playtimes, their relationship.

Here and now, though, there's just the two of them.

He should ask, but Jensen made him pee in front of him, took hold of his dick, and now he's _washing him_ , for Christ's sake. They're both here, wet and hard, and there's no reason Jared can think of why they shouldn't. He lets one hand fall to the front of Jensen's jeans, press lightly against the bulge there. Jensen's mouth twitches in that way it has, but he doesn't protest, doesn't tell Jared to stop, and that's as good as permission as far as Jared is concerned, so he goes for the zipper only to find Jensen's hand on his in an instant.

"This is for you," Jensen says, and holds Jared's gaze. Jared would like to think he means Jensen's cock is for him, but he knows that's not what Jensen is saying. He lets Jensen turn him, lets himself relax back into that sturdy body when hands pull him back, watches his own cock bob around as they settle, and Jensen's hands start lathering him up again – this time using a soft washcloth.

"So good for me," Jensen whispers, mouth hot against Jared's ear. His hand is firm through the washcloth, circling Jared's nipples, first the left, then the right. He pauses in mid rub, squeezes down on the tight nub of flesh. Jared can't help a gasp with each squeeze, rubs his head back against Jensen's. "So beautiful," Jensen breathes then, and there's something about hearing that about him, about Jared, that makes Jared's heart thump wildly, makes him press back harder into Jensen's erection.

Jensen slides the washcloth lower again, and there's no real pretence of washing going on this time. Instead Jensen teases, drapes the wet cloth over Jared's erection, folds it around with his hand, lets it flop playfully back into his palm when it slides off. He slides the damp flannel under Jared's balls, rubs, lets the cloth ease his grip up and down Jared's cock, soap sluicing off it with every stroke and the relentless tormenting pressure of the shower on Jared's skin.

Jensen's grip tightens, and he squeezes the washcloth over and over the head of Jared's cock, short hard jerks that press just under the head, and Jared feels his balls tightening, his nerves stretching to breaking point. He hasn't come with another guy's hand on his dick since he was seventeen, but compared to some of the things he's been doing with Jensen lately, it's hard to think of this as a big deal. Maybe in terms of his career, but he's pretty sure it would be harder to live down his secret life as Jensen's pony than a secret life as Jensen's lover. There's nothing like wearing just a few strips of leather and a buttplug in public to put things in perspective.

"Come for me," Jensen says, his voice husky, and it isn't a question. "Good boy, you can do it." He twists the washcloth over the head of Jared's dick once more, and Jared gives it up before he even realized he was waiting for permission. His dick knew better than he did, it seemed, because no sooner has Jensen told him he can come than the slow build rushes to its conclusion, and he's hissing and biting his lip as his dick jerks in Jensen's grasp and spurts, a long jet of come splashing against the tiled wall. He doesn't know why he doesn't speak, doesn't swear any more when he comes, because he's always been the type to shout it out for the world to know when he's coming, but the sounds coming out of him are devoid of words, and it's been that way a lot lately.

But not as good as this. Having Jensen behind him, around his cock, against his neck, just makes Jared want to rub up against him more, settle in against him and lean there and just let Jensen hold him there as long as he wants.

Jensen strokes him through the rest of his orgasm, striping the wall three more times before his dick sputters and gives up. Jared's balls feel hollow, his brain is offline for the foreseeable future, and Jensen-- damnit Jensen is still fully clothed. How is Jared supposed to return the favor, or at least get to see Jensen naked, if Jensen won't take his fucking clothes off? For fuck's sake, Jensen just jerked him off in the shower. Jared's pretty sure they shouldn't need to hide anything from each other after that.

"I told you," Jensen says when Jared fumbles for Jensen's zipper again. "That was for you."

Jared wants to argue with him, or at least ask him what the hell he means, but Jensen's hands are in his wet hair, his lips pressing against his forehead, and the rush of sheer pleasure – not sexual, a different kind of pleasure, the satisfaction of having Jensen's love and approval – wipes it from his mind.

For now.


End file.
